Hugging Is Good Medicine
by caremkefo
Summary: Senior year is hard because you're under pressure from everyone to do well in your exams and decide your future. It's especially hard for Castiel because, while he never officially came out, his classmates have decided that he's gay and bully him for it. He can't deny it, so he ignores it. Unfortunately it's not as easy to ignore his crush on Dean Winchester.


"Exams are coming up and you're feeling stressed, your teachers are feeling stressed, even your _parents_ are feeling stressed. So we're going to take a little time out. Virginia Satir once said, 'We need 4 hugs a day for survival; we need 8 hugs a day for maintenance; we need 12 hugs a day for growth.' So we're all going to give someone a hug," Ms Barnes announced to the class.

Everyone groaned and Castiel rolled his eyes. They were wasting precious revision time.

"This is just a bit of fun! And of course, the best thing about giving someone a hug is that you're usually going to get one in return. Yes, Miss Rosen?"

"Are you going to pair us up?"

Castiel's stomach twinged.

"No, I'm going to let you choose."

For a moment he was relieved, but then realised that no matter whom he asked he would be ridiculed for his choice. Perhaps it would have been better for Ms Barnes to assign 'hugging partners'.

"_But_, consent is everything," Ms Barnes continued, "so you're going to have to ask. Please bear in mind that it's only a hug, not a marriage proposal."

Castiel frowned as Ms Barnes started handing out sheets of paper.

"You're going to fill these in, then I'll pick one at random and we'll go from there."

Cas couldn't take the sheet from her quick enough when she reached him. It was a generic sheet, printed off the internet. There was a space for his name, the name of the person he was requesting a hug from—

_Dean_

—the duration of the hug, and the reason for the hug. He filled in his name, for that was the easiest part. He really wanted to ask Dean for a hug, but he didn't want to make Dean uncomfortable nor did he want to give his bullies more ammunition. He decided that five seconds was an adequate duration for a hug, and his reason - he assumed - would be exam stress, even though he didn't feel stressed.

"You only need to worry about filling in the names," Ms Barnes instructed belatedly. "You can ignore everything else.

Oh well. He probably wasn't the only person to have filled the spaces in.

"I want these forms back, people," Ms Barnes called out, starting another circuit around the room to collect them.

Castiel stared at his sheet, still pondering over whether or not he could put Dean's name down.

"Cas?" Ms Barnes asked when she reached him.

Swallowing, he decided to bite the bullet. He scrawled Dean's name down before he could change his mind and thrust the sheet of paper at her.

"Okay," she said, mixing them up on her desk. She pulled an unsurprised face. "Charlie is requesting a hug from Dean."

Castiel slumped as Dean made his way over to his girlfriend, his heart hammering in his chest as he prayed that his form went unread. He'd been stupid to think it wasn't a bad idea to put Dean's name down. There was some wolf whistling as the two hugged, and Castiel sunk lower in his seat.

"Chuck is requesting a hug from Becky."

He stared straight ahead, trying to remember the dates for his history classes. He couldn't concentrate fully, for people were chatting and laughing as hugs were being given. The guys were requesting hugs from all the hot girls, which left Meg and Ruby painting each others' nails in the back corner. They weren't unattractive but they were considered weird, above only him in the social hierarchy of high school. Many of the other girls were all but forming a queue to hug Dean, who was more than happy to comply.

Then Ms Barnes read his name out.

"Castiel," she announced as his blood ran cold, "requests a hug from Dean Winchester."

He could feel several pairs of eyes burning through him as he stared at his desk wondering who _JW_ and _MC_ were, for their initials were two of many people who had scratched their names into hearts on his desk over the years.

"Winchester isn't gonna be your little bitch, cock sucker!"

"_Alastair Creedy!_" Ms Barnes yelled furiously. "_Principal Henriksen's office!_"

Castiel's cheeks burned.

"But he's—"

"NOW!" she shouted.

Alastair grabbed his bag and stormed out of the room, muttering curses under his breath.

Castiel still hadn't looked up.

"I'm sorry, Castiel," she apologised. "This was supposed to be fun."

Castiel shrugged, then a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up and stared dumbfounded as Dean shuffled next to him.

"So, uh," Dean asked unsurely, "you want this hug or not?"

Castiel rose to his feet without realising he was doing so, and suddenly Dean's strong arms were wrapped around him. He was so stunned that Dean hadn't laughed in his face that he almost forgot to hug him back, belatedly grabbing at him even as Dean clapped him on the back and moved away.

"Alright, I think that's enough stress-busting for today," Ms Barnes stated. "Get out those practice exams we started working through yesterday."

Castiel hurried to pull his exam paper out of his bag, heart pulsing in his throat because he'd just been hugged by Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester had just hugged him. Even though Dean was straight and had homophobic pricks for friends, he'd willingly hugged Castiel.

The rest of the class passed in a blur of and by the time the bell rang Castiel's brain was going numb. He stuffed all his papers into his folder so he could rush out the door so he could swap his books in his locker before the next class.

As he stepped through the door, a shoulder bumped roughly into him from behind and his notes scattered across the hallway.

Students laughed, carelessly standing on his sheets of paper and in some cases kicking him as he crouched down and tried to gather them all up. A second pair of hands appeared, and he looked up to find himself staring at Dean Winchester.

"Sorry," he said.

"Why are you—"

"I didn't mean to walk into you."

"Oh."

It briefly crossed his mind that this might be payback for the hug, but then why would Dean stay and help him?

Dean piled pages on top of those Castiel had already gathered and they stood up in unison.

"Oh, and, uh..."

Dean added one final folded sheet to Castiel's pile, flashing him a wink before walked off. Castiel headed off in the opposite direction, and when he got to his locker he looked at the piece of paper Dean had given him. He swallowed thickly as he looked at his name written in Dean's untidy scrawl. Why was Dean writing him notes all of a sudden? He shoved it in his locker with everything else because after that disaster of a psychology class he wanted to forget that Dean Winchester existed. Just for an hour.

He'd read it later.

. * * * .

Chemistry wasn't Castiel's best subject, but he liked it. He just wished that Mr Crowley liked him half as much. Whenever he raised his hand to give an answer he went ignored, yet whenever he didn't know an answer Mr Crowley asked him for it.

When the lunch bell rang Castiel was in a foul mood and had forgotten all about Dean's note. He'd usually take his sandwich up to Ms Barnes' classroom but he didn't feel like seeing her again today so he made his way down to the bleachers.

Sadly lunch break didn't passed quickly, and the bell soon rang to send him back to class. He stopped off at his locker to get his gym kit, arriving on the playing field a couple of minutes after everyone else.

Most of his classmates, including Dean, were known to socialise at the gym at the weekend - lifting weights and boasting about how much they could bench press. Castiel wasn't sure what any of that meant. He didn't 'work out', and looked quite scrawny under the layers of his uniform, but that didn't mean he wasn't strong. He went to kickboxing classes two to three times a week and had recently achieved his blue belt. Unfortunately his unpopularity and lack of experience with team sports meant that he was regularly picked last, and his lateness today didn't help matters any.

"Castiel, grab a red shirt - you're in Adam's team!" Coach Mills shouted.

A collective groan sent the blood rushing to his face until it was the same colour as his shirt.

"That's enough, unless you all want to join me for detention after school," she warned. Her voice dropped to a whisper as Cas walked past her to join the end of the batting queue and she said, "Do your best, kid."

Shame pricked the back of his neck. Even the _teacher_ had noticed he sucked. He wished the school offered a kickboxing club so he could show them otherwise. His talents simply lay elsewhere.

He paid little attention as his teammates all took their turn to bat, but shuffled forward every time the line got shorter as someone hit the ball and ran.

When it was his turn he picked up the bat from where it had been discarded in a hurry to make it to first base, and only then did he realise that Alastair was pitching.

"Hey, gay-boy," he sneered, not loud enough for Coach Mills to hear.

He gritted his teeth, not wanting to give him any more ammunition than he already had. He had the strength in him to hit a home run, he knew he did, but the challenge was actually _hitting_ the ball.

Alastair pulled his arm back, and Castiel tightened his grip on the bat.

It came flying towards him at a terrifying speed and his instincts took over as he moved to avoid being hit.

"Strike one!" Coach Mills shouted. "Not so hard, Alastair - you don't want to break arm!"

Castiel glared. That was _exactly_ what Alastair wanted to do. He'd think it was funny.

As the ball came flying towards him again he stood his ground and swung, missing the ball completely and hearing the _thwump_ as it landed in the catcher's glove.

"Strike two!"

Castiel exhaled sharply as he took up position yet again. Alastair threw the ball and Castiel swung. By some miracle he actually hit it, and almost forgot to run until Coach Mills shouted at him. His left foot landed on first base just as the ball landed in Aaron's hand.

"Out!" Coach Mills yelled.

Castiel's shoulders slumped.

"That was a nice hit, though, Cas," she called over with a proud grin.

He offered a half-hearted smile in return as he moved to sit on the grass somewhere near his other team mates who had been called out, waiting to be called back when their teams switched places.

. * * * .

By the time gym was over Castiel couldn't wait to get home and was thankful when he walked into his last class of the day. He liked physics. Physics was easy. It was all hard fact and theory and it used math.

"I'm gonna hand out the marking guide for last week's practice exam and put all you idjits into pairs. You're going to go through your papers together and mark them, then report back at the end of the class what your weakest areas are."

Castiel sighed. He had been looking forward to working alone, but at least getting assigned a partner was better than having no-one pick him.

"Dean, you're with Castiel."

Castiel screwed his eyes shut and prayed that he'd misheard, but the pathetically familiar woody scent of Dean's body spray told him he hadn't.

It was a long hour during which Dean and Castiel mostly worked by themselves. When they did have to talk to one another, Dean said the bare minimum.

"I'm sorry about what happened in psychology," Castiel said eventually. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"I don't care about that," Dean muttered.

"It kind of feels like you hate me for it," Castiel said quietly.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Mr Singer interrupted so they all had time to feedback to him before the lesson ended.

They hadn't finished by when the bell rang so Mr Singer kept them all behind. When he finally did dismiss them Castiel all but ran to the stairwell, desperate to get to his locker and hoping he wouldn't miss his bus.

The note Dean had given him (and that he still hadn't read) burned a hole in his pocket as he ran to the bus stop, arriving just in time to see the school bus pull away. He dropped his bag dejectedly, trying to decide it he should walk or wait for the regular bus. He pulled his wallet out to count his change and the note fluttered to the ground, catching in the wind and flying away. He gave chase, snatching it in the air just before it flew too high.

Forgetting all about his bag abandoned several yards behind him, he smoothed out the page and read, '_Sit with me and Sam at lunch?_'

Castiel frowned. Why had Dean wanted to have lunch with him? Did his younger brother need tutoring? Or had it been the set up for a prank that had fallen through? He remembered how cold Dean had been to him during physics and wondered if Dean was mad because he thought Cas had stood him up. Well, he _had_ stood him up, however unintentionally. He bit his lip. What did he do now?

He tensed as a car pulled up beside him, but then Dean's warm voice called out to him.

"D'you miss your bus?"

"Yes," he said bitterly. "I'd have made it if Mr Singer let us out on time."

Dean licked his lips, as he seemed to consider something.

"Sam's doing homework with a friend tonight," he said.

Castiel stared at him. What was he supposed to say to that?

"I could give you a ride," Dean offered eventually.

"Home?" Castiel asked stupidly.

Dean laughed. "Or wherever you're going."

"Home," Castiel stated.

"I kind of need an address to go with that," Dean smirked.

"One thing," Castiel asked first. "Is this a prank?"

Dean actually looked hurt. "No! Dude, what the fuck?"

Cas walked back to retrieve his bag.

"Cas!" Dean shouted behind him, and when Castiel turned round he realised Dean had gotten out of the car to chase after him.

"Oh," Dean said when he saw the bag in Castiel's hand. He took the bag from Castiel and put it in the trunk, guiding Castiel to the front passenger seat with a warm hand on his back.

Castiel's breath caught in his throat because there was no way he imagined the way Dean's hand slipped lower to squeeze his ass just before he got in the car. He buckled up, feeling giddy in a way that he wasn't sure was more excited or nervous. He gave Dean his address, and they drove in silence for several minutes.

"I got your note," Castiel said finally, unable to stand the silence crushing down on them.

"You didn't show," Dean said coolly.

Castiel twisted the end of his tie. It never sat straight anyway. "I didn't read it until now."

"Oh," Dean said again. He swallowed. "Would you have come?"

Castiel paused before speaking. "I think I might have," he answered.

They passed the turnoff for Castiel's house.

"You missed—"

"I want to take you somewhere."

"Okay," Castiel said nervously.

Dean glanced over at him. "If you don't trust me tell me now. I'll take you home."

"I trust you," Cas breathed.

A hand rested on his knee and Dean's warmth seeped through Castiel's jeans until he thought he would burn from the inside out.

"Charlie," he said, his throat constricting on her name.

Dean snatched his hand back and Castiel could breath again.

Dean stopped in front of a sign that declared **TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT** in large, angry red letters.

"Um, Dean?" he asked quietly.

Dean got out of the car and opened the gate.

"Dean?" Castiel said again when Dean drove the car through the gate. "I don't want to be shot."

Dean laughed. "You're not gonna get shot, Cas."

"But—"

But Dean was already out of the car and halfway to the gate. He swung it shut behind them and the latch fell closed with a _clang_ that reverberated through Castiel's bones. The twisted trees on either side of the car made shapes that sent uneasy shivers down his spine.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he said quietly when they were driving back down the track.

"Did you just quote _Star Wars_ at me?" Dean asked, sounding impressed.

"Um, I don't know," Castiel admitted. "I've never seen it."

Dean shook his head in disappointment but said nothing, and Castiel wondered why one movie would be so important. Then the trees thinned out and he gasped at the sight of the river twinkling in the sunlight.

"See something you like?" Dean asked with a grin.

"It's beautiful. But what about the whole getting shot thing?" Castiel persisted.

"My Aunt Ellen owns the big house up the road and she knows my car. She won't shoot us!" Dean laughed as he pulled up beside the river and turned off the engine.

"Why are we here?" Castiel asked when Dean said nothing.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"O-kay..."

"Away from school. Someplace you'd feel safe. No bullies, no pranks, just you and me." Dean coughed and wiped his hands on his jeans. "Are you really gay or is that just what they say?"

Castiel leaned back in his seat and blinked several times. "You don't beat about the bush, do you?" he asked, laughing hollowly.

"This was a really stupid idea," Dean said abruptly. "I shouldn't have brought you here. It's none of my business."

"Yes," Castiel said as Dean reached for the key still hanging in the ignition.

Dean's hand hovered in the air.

"I am," Castiel continued.

Dean's hand fell to his lap. "Right."

Castiel took a deep breath, guessing where Dean's line of questioning was heading. "And yes, I like you. I am under no illusion that my feelings are reciprocated, however, so you don't need to worry that I might 'jump' you."

Dean laughed. Tears pricked at Castiel's eyes so he turned to look out the side window.

"Oh, man," Dean breathed. "This is fucked up."

"Please just take me home," Castiel whispered.

"Cas, I... What _was_ that today?"

"I don't know!" Castiel shouted at him with tears in his eyes. "It was a spur of the moment, _stupid_ decision, and I don't know what I was thinking except that it was likely the _only_ chance I would ever have to hug you!"

One minute Castiel was looking at Dean staring at him in shock and the next he had soft lips pressed against his. He didn't know if he should push Dean away or hold him close, so fisted his hands in Dean's shirt and didn't let go. Dean's hand gripped his hip and he shifted closer in his seat, opening his mouth for Dean when his tongue swiped across his lower lip. He moaned in pleasure at the same time as tears were falling down his cheeks, then rough thumbs were wiping them away.

"Cas?"

His name was a whisper on Dean's breath and it wasn't fair how wonderful that sounded.

"Hey," Dean whispered, Castiel's face in his hands. "You okay?"

Castiel pushed Dean away. "This isn't real."

"I'm right here," Dean reassured him.

"I mean _this_," Castiel snapped, waving a hand between them. "You have a girlfriend."

Dean licked his lips. "I have a pretend girlfriend," he admitted carefully. "Just like she has a pretend boyfriend."

Castiel's face screwed up in confusion. "What?"

Dean shrugged self-consciously. "Do I like girls? Yeah. Do I also like guys? Yeah. Charlie? She just digs chicks."

Castiel stared, trying to process what he thought Dean was telling him.

"You've got balls, dude," Dean continued. "I know you never _officially_ came out or anything, but the gossip spread and you dealt with it. I couldn't put up with what you do."

"It's hard when you're alone," Castiel heard himself saying.

Then Dean's hand was sliding into his, intertwining their fingers and giving him a gentle squeeze. "Charlie and me, we just pretend. It's harder in some ways but also easier."

"And you have each other for support," Castiel finished for him.

"Yeah."

"Then what is this?" he asked Dean thickly.

"What do you want it to be?"

That was an unfair question. Castiel wanted to walk into school holding Dean's hand and tell everyone who stared to go fuck themselves.

"What do _you_ want?" Castiel asked, turning the question back on him.

"I don't know," Dean said quietly. "But I like this."

Castiel looked at Dean's hand holding his, resting in his lap. "I like it, too."


End file.
